


Running Water

by AnInconvenientRuth



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fairly plotless porn, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 07:09:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnInconvenientRuth/pseuds/AnInconvenientRuth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John gets caught in the rain when out for a run. Sherlock likes wet!John. Quite a lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Running Water

**Running Water**

It started to rain just as John reached the furthest point out from the flat on his run. _Bollocks_. He didn’t mind a bit of rain when he was running, but this was fucking _biblical_ , a deluge that had him soaked literally to the skin in moments. He swore a bit under his breath, but what could you do? He hadn’t taken any money or his Oyster card with him so he was stuffed. He could only suck it up and run back. At least it wasn’t too cold, and his iPod should be safe enough in the waterproof cuff strapped around his bicep. He started working his way back to 221B, and gradually the rhythm of his feet and the rhythm of the rain and the rhythm of the music started to beat through him and he eased back into the flow state which was the real reason he loved running so much. There was a sort of _sensual_ pleasure to feeling his body working, muscles bunching and releasing, pure animal brain stuff. The sensation of the hard rain on his hot, sweat damp skin added another layer of sensuality and he was a bit embarrassed to find faint slithers of arousal shifting through him.

When he finally reached Baker Street he was riding high on endorphins and he found he wanted to enjoy the sensation of the rain a little longer. Since the street was quiet he decided to go through his cool down outside. He worked his legs out and then eased his right arm behind his head, bracing his elbow with the other hand, enjoying the stretch. As he released, he tipped his face up to the rain and then spotted Sherlock at the window peering down at him. He wondered vaguely how long he’d been there – he had an odd expression on his face that John couldn’t quite read. He gave him a quick wave, worked his left arm as best he could (he couldn’t get it as high, he’d lost the full range of movement in that shoulder), and made his way to the door of the flat. Since he’d stopped moving he was beginning to get a bit chilled and he was looking forward to a scalding hot shower and some dry clothes, but he was still feeling pretty buzzed.

~~~~~~

Sherlock was standing in the doorway of the kitchen when John stepped into the flat and started toeing off his wet running shoes just inside the door. Sherlock took in the tight wet t-shirt, the water turning John’s eyelashes into dark spikes.

“You’re soaking,” he said flatly.

“Stating the obvious, Sherlock? Yeah, it’s pouring with rain, you might have noticed.” John grinned at him, and started unstrapping his iPod cuff. Sherlock found himself riveted by the play of powerful muscles under wet golden skin, the sheen of dampness highlighting the curves of biceps, the black lines of the RAMC tattoo on his upper arm a sharp contrast to the soft fuzz of light hair on his forearms. John glanced up at him when he didn’t respond and went still for a moment. Sherlock dropped his gaze to the floor quickly, wondering how well John could read him, hoping it wasn’t well enough to have read _that_.

“You okay?” John asked softly.

“Your muscular development is quite uh… impressive,” Sherlock said, though his voice sounded strange to him, tight.

John studied him, then dropping the iPod cuff on the side table, he peeled his sodden t-shirt off over his head. He held Sherlock’s eyes as he ruffled a hand through his wet hair, sending a spatter of water droplets over his shoulders and upper chest, and this time Sherlock couldn’t repress a faint _noise_ , not really anything identifiable, but enough to make John’s pupils dilate. Sherlock tried to make his eyes look back at the floor again, but John's _chest_ was in the way and he couldn’t seem to get further down. The scar ( _oh, lovely_ ) was a broken blossom across the left shoulder but the creamy planes of pectorals and tight buds of nipples were almost more mesmerizing. Sherlock didn’t know what was going on, he just knew his mouth had gone dry and he wanted to moisten it again with the rain on John’s skin. His eyes slid up over John’s collarbones, his neck, his mouth ( _his mouth!_ ) and finally made eye contact again. It was like being plugged into an electric socket (and yes, he _did_ know what that felt like, thankyouverymuch). John’s eyes were almost black and he held Sherlock’s gaze as he reached for the waistband of his wet shorts and slowly pushed them down and let them drop. Sherlock’s eyes snapped back down. The tight cotton pants underneath were soaked through as well, darkened to wine red, clinging around his hips and obscenely to his erection. _Oh god, he was aroused too._

“You’re… aroused” Sherlock managed.

John breathed out a half laugh. “That was one hell of an eye-fuck, quite frankly.”

“You just…” Sherlock waved a long hand in John's general direction, “…took your clothes off. Right _there_.”

“Yeah.” John stepped up into Sherlock’s space. “They were… all _wet_. Clingy. Against my… _skin_.” He breathed the last word almost against Sherlock’s neck.

Sherlock reached out one pale finger and collected one of the water droplets on John's collarbone. He brought the dab of moisture up and touched it to his lower lip, slid the tip of his tongue out and swept it over his lip and the tip of his finger. He saw John’s pulse pick up, his eyes tracking Sherlock’s tongue. “Fuck, your _mouth_ …” he whispered.

Sherlock bent his head and dipped his tongue into John's suprasternal notch, flicked it out over his collarbone, tracked over the edge of scar tissue. Heard John's breath catch.

”Does it hurt?” he asked against John’s skin.

“No. Don’t stop.”

He didn’t lift his head, but he murmured “This is madness.” Went back to collecting the moisture from John's shoulders. Licked into the corner of his neck and shoulder.

“Everything we do is mad,” John breathed, “but we _can_ stop if this is more mad than you can cope with. Oh _god_ , do that again…”

“I’m not sure there’s a limit on the mad I can cope with, if it’s with you. _Mmmm_.”

“Yeah, I know. _Oh_ … That should probably be terrifying but somehow… _Christ_ … it’s really not,”

John's hands worked down the buttons on Sherlock’s shirt, his fingers cool against Sherlock’s chest. He slipped the shirt off his shoulders and slid his hands around to the small of Sherlock’s back. Pulled him in close. Sherlock could feel the wet soaking through from John’s pants into his trousers. He caught John's mouth with his own, felt rather than heard the gasp. John licked into the kiss, sensations almost overloading Sherlock’s ability to catalogue, a glorious synaesthetic sweep of touch taste smell sound sight.

Sherlock’s hands made their way down over John's arms, feeling the fine hairs raising under his palms. He drew back from the kiss just enough to whisper “You’re getting cold. You should… ummm… get in the shower?”

“Mmmm, shower, there’s a plan. Lets get you wet too.” John's hands moved to the flies of Sherlock’s trousers. “You coming?”

“Uhn, if you don’t stop talking, I might be in a minute…”

“Oh, you like that, huh? Come on then.”

Suddenly Sherlock was a whirlwind of movement, trying to push John towards the bathroom, kiss him again, unbutton his own trousers and wriggle out of them all at the same time. They stumbled into the bathroom, only breaking apart enough to get the shower turned on to heat up. John helped Sherlock get his trousers and silk boxers down in one movement, then dropped to his knees in front of him.

“Ohhh, lovely,” he breathed, and pressed a wet, open mouthed kiss to the head of Sherlock’s cock.

“You’ve done this before?” Sherlock gasped.

John looked up at him through his lashes (and _that_ visual nearly had him coming where he stood) and grinned. “Some of it. Not everything. _This_ ,” and licked a long stripe up the underside of his cock.

“ _Jesus_. Stop stop stop. I can’t… Not yet…”

“In the shower,” John ordered roughly and stood, so close that his cock dragged up Sherlock’s leg from calf to inner thigh, and they both groaned.

Sherlock pulled himself away, stepped under the spray, John stripping off his pants and stepping in right behind him. Sherlock turned and leaned back against the wall, bringing him down to more of a level with John. John stepped up between his legs, pressed close. The touch of hard cock to hard cock was _literally_ breathtaking, and they moved against each other for a few moments, trailing fingers over skin, the water making everything gorgeously slick.

Sherlock lifted a leg, wrapped it round John’s hips. John gave him a _filthy_ grin… and picked up his other leg, taking the weight of him.

“ _Fuck_ , so _strong_ …”

“Impressive muscular development, yeah?” John rocked his hips up against Sherlock’s, making them both gasp.

Finally John lowered Sherlock’s legs, reached over for the shower gel, squeezed out a palm full and took them both in his hand. Sherlock whimpered, his head falling forward to rest on John’s shoulder. From this position he could look down and see their two cocks moving in the circle of John's hand, and he reached down and interlaced his fingers with John’s.

“ _Ohhh_ , that’s…” John breathed.

“Yeah...”

“Oh _god_ … you are _so_ beautiful… Look at you… Your skin’s all flushed, wet…”

“When you came in today all rainy, I just wanted to _lick_ you all over…” John made an inarticulate noise and threw his head back, so Sherlock took advantage and licked up his neck. John’s hand spasmed around them and he breathed “…so close..”

Sherlock increased the speed of their joint hands and then John was coming, and the sight of his lovely face and the pulsing sensation against Sherlock’s cock sent him over the edge too.

They stood for a moment clutched in each other’s arms as the hot water washed them clean again, then John pressed another kiss to Sherlock’s mouth, surprisingly sweet.

Sherlock waited until he made eye contact, then asked quietly, “Are you okay?”

John nodded. Another kiss. Then “You’re gorgeous. Everywhere we go people look at you. But today, you looked at me… like you thought I was too. I've never… No-one’s ever looked at me like that.”

Sherlock shook his head, running his fingers gently up and down John's spine. “Lots of people look at you like that.”  
  
”No, not like that. People think I’m… I dunno… cute, or something.”

“They don’t _see_ you, John. I can’t believe it took _me_ so long to see. You are… astounding.”

John laughed a bit, kissed him again, and laugh-kissing was so delicious Sherlock couldn’t even remember what they’d been talking about for a minute. Then John pulled away again and his brows drew together. “What about you?” he asked. “This… I didn’t think it was… you know, your thing.”

“Apparently, you are my _thing_ ,” Sherlock said and John pulled him into another hard kiss, then released him to ask “What do you want to do now?”

“Now-now, or between-us-now-that-we’ve-had-sex-in-the-shower-now?”

“Huh. I meant the first, but I’ve got to admit I’m interested in the second, too.”

“Well, now-now, I’d like to get dry and get into bed with you, and um… maybe go for a repeat performance in a bit? And then, well, see how things go, but basically, this was good?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“And the rest of, you know, our relationship is good?”

“Yeah, yeah, it is.”

“Then I want this.”

“This?”

“You. If that’s what you want too?”

“Yeah, it is. I didn’t even know it, but it really is.”

Sherlock ducked his head and kissed him slow and luscious, and suddenly the repeat performance idea was looking very appealing indeed.

~~~~~~

There are different kinds of beauty. Slender hips and long necks and milky skin are one kind. Controlled power and expressive faces and kind eyes are another. Intellect like a blade and loyalty like a buttress and love like a benediction are the beauties they share with each other, with the world. They make each other more beautiful. They make each other.

**Author's Note:**

> So I drove past a bloke running in the rain, then I came home and read one of [AtlinMerrick's affirmations](http://atlinmerrick.tumblr.com/post/24130215574/moffat-just-write-the-big-break-is-easy-if) about just sitting down and writing, so I sat down and wrote 2000 words of porn. I don't even know.


End file.
